


A Very Supernatural Christmas

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas, Eventual Sabriel, I'll tag it when we really get to it, M/M, Neighbors, eventual destiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the first day of Christmas, Dean and Sam get some new, rather eccentric, neighbours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Getting into the Christmas spirit! HO HO HO!

"Dean, wake up!" Sam shook Dean's shoulder violently, while Dean only grumbled and mashed his face into his pillow. "You know what day it is? It's the first of December!" Dean groaned and threw his arm out, trying to hit Sam and failing miserably. "C'mon, Dean! We've gotta go get a tree!" Sam resumed his shaking until Dean growled out an "enough!".

"What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Sam! You're 22, not 12. Why are you so excited?" Dean grumbled, pawing at his tired eyes.

"Christmas, Dean!"

"God damn it, Sammy."

  
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Every year, Sam and Dean went and chose their own tree, and every year Dean whined and bitched, refusing to let it anywhere near the Impala, because "Damn it, Sam! No way is that _thing_ going to scratch up my baby." After begging, pleading, and at one point threatening to strap the tree _with Dean_ to the Impala, Sam gave up.

"Ch-fine, we'll get it delivered," he heaved a sigh, "But you're paying for it, jerk."

"Bitch!" Dean yelled at Sam's retreating figure.

Slowly, Dean started shuffling back to the Impala. ' _Christ, it was already getting stupidly cold,'_ Dean thought. The layers of clothing reduced his usual stride to little more than a waddle, and he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he considered how stupid he probably looked. Not that it mattered; the lot was empty except for him, the Impala, and the dozens of pines, firs, and cedars. He fumbled with the keys, grabbing at them with numb fingers, before successfully unlocking the car and crawling inside. The Impala roared to life, and Dean smiled to himself, pleased with how good she sounded. He cranked the heat and sat back, closing his eyes.  


  


  
God, Dean would kill to be back at the apartment already. Getting up early on a weekend for Christmas tree shopping was bullshit. It was a Sunday, for crying out loud! Dean was fine about getting into the Christmas spirit, but only at a reasonable hour. Asking anything of him before 9 AM usually was something reserved for Sam alone, anyone else who tried definitely had a death wish. Considering that Sam was so excited for Christmas already, he'd be already hyping himself for the decorating (which he'd certainly rope Dean into) and presents.

_'Ah, shit. Sam's present.'_ Dean was at a loss as to what Sam wanted this year. It wasn't like Sam placed huge emphasis on gifts, but Dean always strived to find the  _perfect_ gift. Usually he had a vague idea of what to search for, but Sam had been completely unhelpful in the hint-dropping department this year. Last year Dean had given him a boxed, hard-cover set of some mythology books Sam had practically been drooling over the first time he'd seen them. The year before that had been tickets to some indie band Sam had been playing constantly on repeat for a  _ month , _ that __ were playing a gig a few towns over. This year, however, Dean had exactly zero ideas so far on what he'd be getting for Sam, and he already knew the thought was going to plague him throughout the coming weeks.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam yanked open the door, effectively halting Dean's train of thought and almost making him shit his pants in one awkward move (Sam was never going to be able to get in the car gracefully). "So get this, I was in the office and the guy was ringing me up for the delivery, and then his wife comes in and tells him that we get twenty-five percent off-"

"Wait, what? Why?"

Sam shrugs and grins, "I dunno, she said something about me being the 'lovely tall gentlemen from last year', you know, 'cause every year we come here for the tree instead of buying from somewhere else, and I helped her with a bookshelf she was trying to move last time we came around, so she must be returning the favour. How cool is that?"

"Yeah, that's...awesome, Sam. When's the tree coming?" Dean asked, putting the car into reverse and moving to pull out of the parking lot.

"Uh, they said sometime around three o'clock, I thi- Ow! Jesus, Dean!" Sam yelped as his head hit the roof, "Slow down, damn it! There's speed humps all through the parking lot!"

Dean grumbled to himself, muttering something about 'gigantor' and 'too many brain cells anyway' under his breath, but did slow the car for the next two speed humps.  


  
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"Hey, I didn't know we had new neighbours," Dean remarked as they pulled into the driveway. "Did you see them here this morning?"

"I don't think so, we would've noticed the delivery truck if it was there. Do you think they're nice? Should we go introduce ourselves?" Sam eyed the house warily.

"Nah, they're probably busy u npacking all their stuff. We can go say hi later." Dean replied, heading up to the house.

Honestly, the house wasn't much. It was ancient and cramped, but the rent had been cheap and it was in a good location that suited both Sam and Dean. It had looked like a wreck when they first arrived, but Dean had gotten permission to make some renovations and even Sam had to admit, it looked a hell of a lot better now that it had before. Over two months, Dean had repainted three rooms, unable to stand the horrifying mustard yellow catastrophe that covered the walls; destroyed the rotting, narrow veranda that ringed the front of the house and rebuilt it completely ("I'd like to make it into this damn house without breaking my leg, thanks"). Then he'd roped Sam in for a full week's worth of cleaning the house in its entirety, and made him assist in his struggle to tame the jungle that had replaced the tiny backyard. By the end of it they'd both thoroughly exhausted themselves, but it was definitely worth it. The little elderly woman they'd been renting the place from had been so impressed with the changes she'd offered to let them buy the house and pay it off over time, seeing as she'd already secured another house for herself. It was a weird offer, but who were they to refuse? Ever since, Sam and Dean were able to happily consider themselves actual _owners_ of a house, a decent place they could call home.

"You want some grub?" Dean asked as he shoved his way past the door, Sam trailing in behind him.

"What's on offer?"

"Burgers," Dean replied over his shoulder

"Dean, you have burgers, like, every second day!"

"Yeah, because they're freaking delicious. You want some or not?" Dean paused on his way to the kitchen, turning back to Sam for confirmation.

"Alright, but I still think it would be a good idea to try tofu burgers."

"Not a chance in hell, Sammy." Dean snorted, and headed for the fridge. "Hey, open up those curtains, would you? It's dark in there."

Sam sighed and crossed over into the lounge room. He shoved the floor-length curtains aside and opened the window to try and get rid of the stale air. Then he looked up and nearly choked. He had a clear view of their new neighbour, a short guy with shaggy brown hair, dancing in front of the window across from Sam's, wearing a tight pair of fluro orange briefs. Sam knew he was gaping, frozen in shock and _staring_ at his neighbour, who was swinging his hips and sucking on a lollipop. Before his brain booted back online and gave the command to close the damn curtains, the stranger was turning and, _holy shit no_ , caught sight of Sam.

The stranger stopped dancing, and instead of yelling Sam down for being a complete creeper, a predatory smirk crossed his face. Sam was blushing furiously, still rooted to the spot, so overwhelmed by his own mortification that he didn't even hear Dean re-enter the lounge room. The stranger walked toward his own window, maintaining eye contact with Sam. He flicked the lock and pushed it open.

"Hey, you! Tall, gaping, and handsome," he yelled over the gap between buildings, pointing at Sam with the lollipop.

"M-me?" Sam's voice cracked. Behind him, Dean watched the exchange with a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter. He was definitely going to blackmail Sam with this.

"Mmmhhmm," he replied, appraising Sam, "You like what you see?" he asked, leaning against the side of the window and cocking his hip out.

"I, uh, I'm-" Sam stuttered. ' _Don't look at his crotch, for the love of god do not look at his crotch.'_

"I'm Gabriel, and you are?" He drawled, eyes wandering over Sam's body.

"Um, I'm S-Sam." ' _Oh my god, how is this my life_ ,' Sam thought.

"Well, _Sam,_ if it's you who's going to be ogling me from over there, I might show off more often. I mean, I've already given you some of this," he ran his free hand down his bare torso, grinning, "Maybe I'll treat ya to a little more, huh?" His hand slid lower and tugged at the band of his underwear, releasing them with a _snap!_

Sam let out a high pitched squeak and his face went from pink to bright red. He reached for both curtains and yanked them shut, whispering a quiet "Oh my god, kill me."

Dean burst out laughing. Sam whirled around at the noise and stared as Dean doubled over, an arm around his stomach as he tried to catch his breath between laughs. Sam didn't think this situation _could_ get worse, but it just did. He bolted from the lounge room and hid himself in his bedroom, leaving him to re-imagine exactly what just happened over and over until his mind decided to let his embarrassment go.

_'Holy shit,'_ Dean thought as he wiped tears from his eyes, _'this Christmas was going to be very interesting.'_

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Sammy, burgers are done. Get your ass down here!" Dean yelled from the kitchen.

It had been quiet in Sam's room since he fled there, and maybe ribbing Sam about the whole 'being propositioned by the nearly naked Gabriel' thing wasn't such a good idea. Sam had always been easily embarrassed, and quickly grew upset when Dean used to tease him when they were kids. Dean could always wait. "Sam, either you come and eat on your own free will, or I'll drag you here and shove your food down your throat!" This time, Dean heard a thump and the creak of Sam opening his door. ' _Gotta fix that damn door,'_ Dean reminded himself. Whenever Sam got up in the middle of the night, Dean always knew, thanks to the god-awful squeaking noise that signalled Sam's exit.

Sam's head poked around the corner, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

"You were doing the 'frustrated-hair-tug' again, weren't you?" Dean asked as Sam lumbered over to the dining table and dropped into a chair. Dean's attention was focused on trying to get the burger to remain upright on the plate, but he heard Sam's head drop to the table and the loud sigh that followed.

"I can never go outside again." Sam moaned.

"Well, I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean sat next to him and slid a plate and bottle of beer in front of him, "but we've still got the tree to bring inside, and if you think I'm going to try and drag that monster inside by myself, you can think again." Dean took a large bite of his own burger, "Besides-"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Sam reprimanded him, raising his head up and glaring at Dean, who rolled his eyes but remained quiet.

" _Besides,"_ Dean started again, "the dude's obviously into you, even if he's nuts. Especially if he's willing to give you a semi-public strip tease through the window, but that could just be the crazy talking." Sam cringed and tried to focus on the food in front of him instead of what would now be dubbed 'The Gabriel Fiasco'.

"Dean, he's not crazy." 

"Pfft, how many sane people you see pull something like that, hmm?"

Sam shook his head with a disbelieving snort and shovelled more of the burger into his mouth. Damn, Dean was a good cook. 

"Hey, do you think there's anyone else there with him?" Dean piped up, "That house is pretty big for one guy, don't you think?" 

"I dunno. I haven't seen anyone else around. Then again, Gabriel was a surprise."

"Heh, you can say that again. Let's hope he's got some hot sibling willing to give me the same treatment you received!"

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

"Sam, the tree's out front! Get your ass down here!" Dean bellowed from the front door. Quite frankly, Dean wasn't entirely sure they could even fit the tree through the door without seriously damaging it. It was all Sam's fault for wanting a tree that was taller than he was for once in his life. "Sam, freaking c'mon!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" Sam's voice floated down from his bedroom, followed by the quick, successive thumps of his footsteps as he launched himself down the hallway. Dean simply stared as watched the gangly, uncoordinated lump of layered clothes that was Sam came hurtling towards him. Sam pulled up barely two feet from Dean and burst into laughter at the terrified look on his brother's face.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean grumbled, scowling, "I thought you were going to crush me into the wall for a moment there," he sighed as he watched Sam's grin grow bigger and allowed him to push past out of the front door. At the end of the driveway Dean could see a rusty Chevy pick-up truck loaded with their seven-foot tree, and at the wheel was the grumpy middle-aged man they'd bought the tree from.

"Do you think he'd help us unload it and get it inside?" Sam murmured as they approached the car.

"Going by the look on his face, I think he'd rather kill you and string you up alongside that tree than help us with it." Dean muttered in reply, eyes forward. Sam's gulp was audible.

Sam approached the car window, lowering his head so it was level with the man's, "Uh, thanks for delivering the tree, Mr...?"

"Jenkins," 

"Well, thanks Mr. Jenkins. We'll just, uh," he pointed in the vague direction of the tree, and was met with only silence and an icy glare, "Yeah, okay. Uh, great."

Dean took that as a sign to start unloading the tree, climbing up onto the back of the pick-up truck and making a start on the knots securing the tree.

"Hey, make sure you don't scratch up my baby with those boots o' yours!" Mr. Jenkins yelled out the window. Dean scoffed to himself, as if some scuff marks were going to make much difference to the catastrophe that was Mr. Jenkins' rusting 'baby'. Dean stared down at the tree, then at the doorway, the tree, the door. _'This is a bad idea'_ was the one thought going through Dean's mind, they were definitely going to be cramming it in through the door, and it was going to be one hell of a job. Dean sighed, staring up at the house. ' _At least that Gabriel guy is guaranteed to make Sammy's Christmas interesting,'_ Dean mused. He shifted his attention to the neighbouring house. The delivery truck was still parked outside, but Dean hadn't noticed much activity. He nearly choked when he noticed someone at the window.

_'Holy shit! What was with these people and windows?'_

A mess of dark hair and shocking blue eyes greeted him from the other side of the pane. That man was definitely not Gabriel. The man frowned slightly before his eyes widened, realising Dean had caught him looking. Then he disappeared from his place behind the window entirely. Damn, he was quick!

"... Dean! Hey!"

"Wheugh?" Dean blinked, glancing down to see Sam trying to wave a hand near his face. "Whaddayawan'?"

"I'd _like_ some help getting this tree inside. What the hell were you staring at anyway?"

"Gabriel isn't living alone." Dean glanced back up at the house, but Blue Eyes, as Dean was going to call him from now on, hadn't reappeared. 

"What do you mean?" Now Sam turned, squinting at the house as he looked for any movement.

"Hey!" Mr. Jenkins shouted from the front, "Could you move this along, yer' my last deliv'ry and I'd like to make it home some time today!"

"Sorry!" Sam called back, "We've just got to get it onto the ground and we'll be out of your hair." He turned back to Dean, "Are the knots undone? Let's get this baby into its new home!" 

The next few minutes were filled with a flurry of creative cursing and complaints (mostly from Dean). It was only after the tree had safely touched down (ignoring the terrifying moment Dean's grip slipped and Sam nearly experienced death by Christmas tree) and Mr Jenkins was long gone that Sam and Dean both declared that they'd earned themselves a break. Sam ducked back inside to grab a couple of beers, leaving Dean to guard the tree currently resting on the veranda. Dean leaned against the support beam, tilting his head back and blowing out a cloud of cold air. It struck him that he hadn't bothered to check if Blue Eyes was really there, or if he'd been a figment of Dean's imagination. He jerked his head back down, eyeing off the seemingly empty residence.

There! Standing at the second window from the left was Blue Eyes. So he was real... and he was staring again. Dean grinned and winked at the man, who flushed a bright pink.

Dean and Sam were definitely going to be introducing themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

The Winchesters were never getting a tree that big again. _Ever._

It had taken almost _an hour_ to force the tree through the door and move it into the lounge room, during which Dean took a hit to the face from one branch, Sam almost impaled his hand on another, and they left a trail of vegetation leading throughout the house (including no less than four branches that had been accidentally snapped off during the ordeal).

Dean collapsed face-first onto the worn couch, eliciting a loud squeak from the crappy springs. "That tree was spawned by Satan," he groaned into the cushions. He heard Sam drop into the couch on his right and heave an exhausted sigh.

"You know we still have to decorate it."

"Can't we do it tomorrow?" Dean whined.

"Dude, we both have class tomorrow. And you've got work, I'm pretty sure."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I can't wait to be on break again." Dean juggled his job at the library with his degree, which he'd been convinced by Sam to begin at 24. Two years later, and it still sometimes surprised him that he was actually going to _college_ , something he never expected for himself. High school had always been exhausting and incredibly boring, in Dean's honest opinion, and was made even more difficult by constantly being dragged around the country by their father as he searched out new jobs, all of which he eventually lost. While Sam had excelled in all of his classes, Dean struggled with most of his. He only truly enjoyed his English class, especially when they studied dystopian fiction, and Physics, which was one of those 'real world' classes he'd instantly clicked with. He'd only add his history class to that list due to their unit on the war, which was _awesome_. The rest of his classes were tedious, and honestly, Dean didn't think they were worth his time or effort. He'd scraped up good enough marks to graduate and get his diploma, and then he'd launched himself into work to try and help support his small family as they jumped from state to state.

"What hours you working tomorrow?" 

"Twelve 'till... five thirty, I think," came Dean's muffled reply, followed by a groan, "I don' wanna go."

"Is it that group reading day tomorrow?" 

"Mmhmm. There's a bunch of third graders coming in. God, I hate third graders."

Dean's first job had been at a small auto-shop owned by one Robert Singer, who would've scared the shit out of Dean, had he not stumbled and fallen face-first in the mud during Dean's 'interview', a process where Bobby determined if Dean was worth his time (and, y'know, not a lazy asshole). The physical work in the scrapyard and the shop had been demanding, but strangely rewarding, and on hot days in the summer sun Bobby would bring Dean a beer, uncaring that Dean was under-age. The Winchesters weren't exactly poor during this period, but the new addition of Dean's income was warmly welcomed. Sam could afford to buy extra books and go out with his friends more often, Dean got to buy a leather jacket of his own instead of wearing his father's, and John didn't have to stress over money as much. For the following two years their lives remained roughly the same, except that John travelled by himself, now that Dean was old enough to take care of himself and keep a watchful eye over Sam. Dean worked, Sam studied, and John left them money when he was gone. Things were simple and repetitive, until John was in a head-on collision on his way home. Sam spent two days at a friend's house while Dean spent as much time as he could at the hospital, staring down at John's still form on the hospital bed and trying to will him out of his coma. However, will alone was never enough to triumph over grievous injury, and the gnarled hands of death wrapped themselves tightly around John, refusing to let go.

John died on the nineteenth of July, leaving Dean and Sam to fight their own battles. And fight they did. Dean claimed guardianship over Sam and used the money he'd saved for emergencies to set themselves up in a cheap flat so Sam was close to school. He picked up a second job working the evening shifts at the local bar, easily charming tips out of the patrons. Dean had no thoughts about furthering his education, focused only on earning enough money to keep them afloat without Sammy having to split his time between school and a job. Dean had made it work, he raked in the cash from the bar, and eventually between Sam's graduation and the present, Dean had found himself _a home owner_ completing a degree.

"Ugh," Dean pushed himself up off the couch, "Food first. There's no way I'm touching that tinsel without eating beforehand."

Sam followed Dean into the kitchen, "Dean, you ate _two_ burgers less than four hours ago!"

"So?" And, _whoa_ , Dean didn't think it was possible for eyebrows to go that high. 

" _How are you hungry already?!"_ Sam watched, half in a sort of twister horror, as Dean started pulling out the ingredients for his sandwich.

Dean shrugged, returning his attention to the food in front of him. "Instead of just sitting there staring, _S_ _amantha,_ like you did with Gabriel, you _could_ go and get the decorations."

Sam let out an indignant splutter and blushed, glaring at Dean. "Jerk," he muttered, then stomped out of the room, the sound of Dean's cackling following him out.

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"Okay, so we've got tinsel, lights, and enough baubles to rival the population of Kansas. Oh, and the angel. Anything else?" Sam asked, hands on his hips as he assessed the array of decorations.

"Uh, I think we've got enough, Sammy. What goes on first?"

"Lights, then tinsel, then the rest."

"Alright," Dean eyed the lights with trepidation. There was one year that he'd nearly been strangled by the string of lights when he walked backwards into Sam and overbalanced. He never wanted to repeat the experience. Actually, maybe cutting the them into ten different pieces was the better option, just to make sure it couldn't happen again.

"You're still weird about the lights, aren't you?"

"Pfft, of course not, why would I be? They're just fairy lights." Dean spoke hurriedly, and Sam could've sworn his eyes actually shifted from side to side.

Sam gave a derisive snort and picked up the ring of lights, handing the end to Dean, "Help me unravel these." He instructed, and almost burst laughing at the wary look on Dean's face as he stared at the lights in his hand. "Don't worry, I'll protect you." He said mockingly, looking between Dean and the fairy lights.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, tugging harder.

The brothers struggled with the two sets of fairy lights. Dean overestimated how far the first set would reach around the bottom half of the tree, and when he ran out of length before he'd reached his imagined goal, he stubbornly refused to redo them more evenly, so the top half (which, honestly, was closer to three quarters) was far more sparsely lit than the bottom. "We'll just hide it with tinsel." Dean suggested when he stepped back and assessed the tree, finally able to see that the top didn't glow nearly as brightly as bottom.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess it's not _that_ bad. You probably won't even notice it under all the decorations." Sam tried, wincing slightly.

"Tinsel then?"

"Yeah." Sam agreed hastily.

Thank god the tinsel was a bigger success than the lights. Dean had learned from his previous mistake and happily circled around the tree, draping the tinsel behind him, until he was dizzy. Sam smiled as he watched Dean's childish, but strangely effective manoeuvre. Dean had always been a sucker for decorating, and had mourned the opportunities they'd missed due to their frequent travels throughout their childhood. Sam watched Dean grin and laugh at his new victory with the tinsel, dancing around the tree in jubilation and letting out a triumphant cry once he''d completely covered the tree.

"Man, I am awesome!" Dean said, sidling up to Sam, "Whaddaya think, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean, I guess you're awesome. I didn't think the tree was going was going to recover from the lights, but you, uh, you brought it back from the brink. Nice job."

"Hell yeah, I did! Let's get some baubles on this bitch!"

"Which side do you want?"

"I'll go left, that way _Gabriel_ might be able to see you out the window." Dean put childish emphasis on Gabriel's name.

"Oh my god, Dean. Could you drop it?"

"What? This bauble or the Gabriel thing?" He asked innocently, bringing a red bauble up beside his face.

"Gabriel, asshole." Sam huffed, refusing to laugh at Dean's antics.

"Not a chance, Sammy. Hey, maybe we should move the baubles to your side so when you bend over he'll get-" 

"Dean! _Shut up!_ And hand me those two blue ones, would you?" Dean complied with both requests. "And hey, if I'm not mistaken, you must've been having one hell of a stare off with the other guy you mentioned. It's like you were in dream land. Were you trying to etch his _beautiful features_ into you memory?"

"Christ, no. Dude caught me by surprise, is all. One moment he was standing at the window and the next he was gone. I think I scared him away, he must be shy or something."

"Aw, Dean, I didn't know you could take to someone that quickly," Sam began, his tone mocking, "Well, I'll ensure that you can go and introduce yourself properly."

"Ha, ha, bitch. Gabriel's watching."

"What?!" Sam squawked and whirled around. Gabriel was fortunately not at the window, and Sam relaxed.

"Fuck you, Dean." He spat with no real malice. Dean only gave him a sly smirk in return, and they returned to decorating the tree.

Dean didn't say a thing when he noticed Gabriel pass by his window and do a double take after catching sight of Sam (particularly when Sam bent over to pick up more baubles, nor did he raise his eyes for another staring contest with Blue Eyes when he noticed him watching out of the corner of his eye. Dean continued to smile to himself.

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"It's done!" Dean crowed in delight, then assaulted Sam for a high five. The tree actually looked _good_ , which was a rare feat for the Winchester brothers. The angel at the top of the tree beamed down at them.

"That was an ordeal. Are we doing outdoor lights this year?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, why not? We can give the neighbours a show, heh, kind of like how Gabr-"

"Dean!" Sam barked.

Dean huffed, "We can start on Tuesday, I don't have work then." Dean moved towards the couch and threw himself down. "It'll be-" he suddenly cut off, looking intently out the window at Gabriel and Blue Eye's house.

"Dean?"

"Sonuva bitch!" Dean shouted, pushing himself back up and marching towards the window, "How did they even...?" he trailed off, frowning at the house.

"What, Dean?" Sam prompted.

"They've already got decorations up outside! _The delivery truck isn't even gone and they've got decorations up!"_ Dean gestured violently at the front of the house, where a string of lights circled the veranda.

"Dean, no-"

"You know what this means, Sammy."

"Don't-"

"I don't care how much Gabriel likes you-"

"Dean, not this again!"

"We're going into battle, Sammy. They've declared the beginning of all-out Christmas warfare, and _I will not lose_." The steely look in Dean's eyes made Sam nervous. Dean had only declared a (one-sided) decoration battle with the neighbouring house two years ago, and he'd nearly ended up strangling a young boy with a giant plastic candy cane to claim his victory. This was going to be bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just give me a yell if there's any errors, cause I read over and post chapters late at night when I'm not exactly fully functional, y'know?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though it took twice as long to post, I think this chapter's balanced out because it's twice the usual length of the previous chapters.

Dean was shocked awake by the loud buzzing of his alarm clock. ' _Fuckin' Mondays,'_ he thought. Dean hated Mondays with a passion. Honestly, he'd rather live through one hundred Tuesdays before he struggled through a single Monday. Especially if it was a Monday with the local public school's third graders. Dean groaned and hauled himself up, rubbing at his bleary eyes as he stumbled towards the bathroom.

Down the hall he could hear Sam puttering around the kitchen. No doubt he'd already gone for a morning run, or something else as equally health-conscious, like yoga. _Christ._ Dean fumbled blindly for the taps, letting out a loud yelp when freezing cold water rained down on him.

_'Shitshitshitfuckcoldcold'_ Dean's mind screamed as he tried to escape the icy water, slipping around in a desperate attempt to shut the water off. For one heart-stopping moment, Dean overbalanced, and only _just_ managed to right himself instead of falling and cracking his skull open.

Yeah, Dean hated Mondays.

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Dean and Sam somehow (barely) made it to their respective classes on time, though Dean had to sprint across campus to get to Physics. He burst through the door, wild-eyed and panting, and gave a sheepish wave to the lecturer, who had just opened her mouth to begin. In return, she gave him an unimpressed look, but made no comment on his entrance. Dean scanned the small crowd, catching sight of Victor, who was waving and grinning in the back row of seats. Of course.

"Winchester! Getting later every day." Victor whispered, making a 'tsk-tsk' noise.

"Pfft," Dean scoffed quietly, dragging out his notebook, "Fine, let's pretend it's not you who's always tripping through the doors ten minutes late, complaining about not having any coffee." He whispered back.

"Nah," Victor grinned, "that's not me. You're thinking of someone else." Dean rolled his eyes instead of smiling and focused on the the lecture.

Halfway through his degree, and Dean was really enjoying college. Sure, it could be stressful, especially when it came to exams and assignments, but he enjoyed his classes. And he also lucked out in having a good sense of time management, unlike Victor, who was a serial procrastinator and was forced to go into what Dean called his 'military mode' two days before the assignment was due. Every time. Dean was almost certain that Victor would be bald before thirty, considering the way he tugged at his (not so substantial) remaining hair. Dean spent the rest of the lecture studiously taking notes, with Victor sometimes glancing across to double check his own notes against Dean's.

"Dude," Victor exclaimed once the lecture finished, "I swear, you have _the messiest_ writing. I can barely read it."

"That would be because you're supposed to be looking at _your_ notes, idiot. At least I can read mine, _Vicky_. I see you squinting at your notes when you read over 'em like you magically wrote them in Japanese."

"Oof," Victor doubled over in mock pain, a hand over his chest, "Double strike, how you wound me! But really," he said, straightening up again, "Call me that again and I'll pour water over your books."

"Oho! Touchy, aren't we!" Dean laughed, though he didn't doubt the seriousness of Victor's threat. "Hey, I'll see you 'round, 'kay? You go have fun with your lawyer crap, I've gotta get to English."

"See ya, Losechester!" Victor laughed, beginning to head off in the opposite direction. Dean flipped him off behind his back. About eighty percent of his and Victor's friendship was based around dumb insults and creative threats, with another five percent based around the fact that they both had such unrelated majors and minors. Dean was majoring in mechanical engineering, minoring in English, while Victor majored in Law, hoping to join the FBI, and minored in Biology (apparently he just had a love for plants, Dean didn't ask).

The rest of Dean's day passed in a state of mental fog, until he remembered the reading group at the library. _Great._

Honestly, most kids were fine. The little kindergarten kids would come in and wander around, arms linked with their chosen partner's. They were adorable, quiet, and demonstrated way better manners than the older kids. Okay, so Dean was biased, but when they approached him with big eyes, a book in their tiny hands and a shy greeting of "Hi, Mr. Winchester" his heart melted a little (not that he'd confess that to Sam).

He found Sam in the parking lot, leaning against the Impala, cradling a coffee between his huge hands.

"Hey, you know what I said about leaning on the car!" Dean admonished.

"Yeah, yeah. Scratch her up and I get the matching set."

"Damn straight. So, Sasquatch, how was class?" Dean asked as he unlocked the Impala and slid in.

"Yeah, good," Sam said distractedly, struggling to bring his long legs into the car while balancing the coffee, "Apparently our exams haven't even started being graded."

"Well, they were literally last week, so I'm not exactly surprised." Dean said, speaking over the roar of the engine as it started.

Sam sighed, "Yeah, I guess. I'm just worried about how I went, you know?"

"You've got nothing to worry about, Sammy, you freakin' brainiac."   


  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean was never going to be ready for today's shift, but at least he was approaching this battle with a full stomach. He entered through the library's automatic doors and gave a cursory scan. No surprise kids. Good.

Once, he'd arrived expecting to do the group reading with the kids two hours later, and walked through the doors to find the library swarming with rampant children. Two he'd immediately spotted fighting over a book, ripping at the pages and each other's hair, and he'd had to physically separate them from each other and the damn book. Another boy had stressed out over which book he had to pick to take home and began to hyperventilate in the corner, only calming down after Dean had given him a paper bag, a long hug, and an offer to let him take home three books instead of one. It took fifteen minutes to gather the class back together, calm them down, and tick off their names. Apparently, the substitute teacher who had them for the day was an incompetent, uptight bitch who couldn't even keep watch over a class for ten minutes. Dean hoped to never see her again.

"Hey Missouri, did you miss me?" He grinned at the woman at the counter. Missouri was his favourite person at the library, even though she was his boss and frequently smacked Dean over the head whenever she thought he was slacking off, though it wasn't as if working at the library overall was physically demanding. 

"Honey, it's been two days since I saw you. I think you ego's gettin' out of control, boy."

"How couldn't you miss _this_?" He pointed at his face, earning a chuckle from Missouri.

"Now you're just fishing for compliments. And before you ask, those kids are still coming in later."

Dean stopped smiling, "Damn it. How'd you even know I was going to ask?"

Missouri only gave a small 'hmph' sound as she turned around and walked away. Damn, Dean hated when she did that. He dumped his backpack in the back room, grabbing the coffee Missouri had made for him. Okay, sometimes her weird psychic-lady crap could be useful. As he returned to the main section of the library, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped and glanced around, confused. All seemed normal, so he dismissed the feeling and kept walking.

_'What the hell was that?'_ he wondered.

The minutes crawled by as he waited for the inevitable group reading, only interrupted when Ben came to the desk to borrow a book on cars and started up an enthusiastic conversation about baseball. Dean liked Ben, he was young and bright, _and_ he had a good taste in music (well, Dean was teaching him, but it was definitely improving).

"Dean?" Missouri called from behind a stack of old newspapers (why they even had those, Dean still wasn't sure, he'd never seen anyone even touch them).

Dean looked to Missouri, then back to Ben. "I'll be right there!"

A muffled ringing erupted from Ben's pocket. "Crap," he muttered, "that'll be my mom."

Dean gave a low whistle, "You'd better get going then."

"Yeah, I'm already ten minutes late. Bye, Dean!" He gave a wave and then was out the door.

Dean strolled over to Missouri, praying that he wasn't going to be dragged into whatever newspaper-tower-catastrophe was happening. "What's up?" he asked, peeking over one poorly balanced tower, careful not to get too close.

"Thought you should know," she began, huffing a little, "One of the teachers from the school called up. Apparently, there's been a bunch of kids getting sick in class, you know how these things spread, so they're all being sent home."

"Wait, you don't mean the third graders, do you?"

"Mmm, that'd be them. Instead you've got the kindergarten kids for the reading instead."

_"Are you serious?!"_

Missouri simply gave him _the look_ , raising one eyebrow in that condescending manner that said _'Are you stupid or just completely deaf?'_ Dean let out a whoop and punched the air. ' _No bratty little second graders! What a fucking miracle!',_ he mentally cheered.   


  
Missouri shushed him, glaring, "You're still in a _library_ , boy. Keep it down, would you?"

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean grinned at the young female teacher ushering the kindergarten kids quietly into the library. She walked beside them as they approached the front desk in two lines. Dean walked around to the front of the desk.   


  
"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester." he held out a hand to the teacher. She smiled and shook it.

"Jo Harvelle. Well, I'm Miss Harvelle to these guys. I've got them for the day." She nodded down towards the kids, who smiled at her. She crouched down so she was around the same height as the kids, "Everyone, you know Dean, right? Say hi."

"Hi, Mr. Winchester!" the children parroted, smiling shyly.

"Hi guys. What are you doing back here so soon?" He was met with a chorus of varying, enthusiastic responses, all at once. "Whoa, whoa, hold your horses! I can't understand you if you're all talking at the same time! Did Miss Harvelle pick a book for us to read today?" The kids all nodded. "Well," he glanced at Jo, "what did she pick?"   


  
"Dr. Seuss!"

"Really? Awesome. Then let's head over, yeah?"

He led them to the children's area, which was bright and colourful, with posters of cartoon characters over the walls, while Jo was led away by Missouri to get some coffee. While Dean was waiting for the kids to settle down on the ground, he got that weird prickly feeling again, which  in itself was weird, because Dean was pretty sure that sixth sense thing was a defensive reaction, and it wasn't like Dean was in danger at a freaking _library._ He brushed it off and focused back on the group.

"So, who's got the book?" Dean asked them. A small boy towards the back stood up and stumbled over to Dean, hopping between his classmates, He silently handed over a battered copy of _The Lorax,_ eyes down the whole time. "Thank you, James." Dean said quietly, and watched the boy's head snap up in surprise. James stared at Dean for a moment with wide eyes before he gave a little smile and returned to his seat. Dean was pleased that he'd remembered the boy's name from their last trip, apparently James hadn't been expecting him to.

Dean positioned the book so the kids could see the pictures, readied his 'reading voice', and began, "At the far end of town where the grickle-grass grows, and the wind smells slow and sour when it blows..."

Behind the shelf, hidden from Dean's sight, a familiar pair of blue eyes peered between the books. Castiel was enraptured as he watched Dean's eyes light up at the children's reactions, and how he threw his head back when he laughed at the children's comments, going along with their imaginative ideas about the plot and characters. He watched as his neighbour - Dean, he'd overheard him being called earlier - read to the children, his voice gentle. Castiel remained watching and listening, curled up in his chair, through the entirety of the story.   



	5. Chapter 5

It was Tuesday afternoon, and Dean was ready for battle.

"Do you think we should get more lights?" Dean turned to Sam, who stood beside him, gaping at the small mountain of decorative lights covering the floor.

"I..." Sam began weakly, "I didn't even know we owned so many. How are you supposed to power all of them?"

"Ah, today we'll be using these magical devices I like to call _extension cords."_

Sam glared as Dean waved a cord in front of his face. "Dean, the electricity costs-" Sam's bitch-face came out in full swing. That always happened when he got antsy about the environment and the greenhouse effect and all that other bullshit.

"Sam, it's for _a month,_ calm down."

"Alright, alright," Sam raised his hands in a placating gesture, he really didn't want to start _that_ fight again, "But Dean, are you sure you want to start this? I don't think they've even realised what's happening."

"Oh, they'll know soon enough," Dean said, a little too darkly for Sam's liking.

"Shouldn't you... warn them first, or something?"

"What? Why _warn_ them? That just gives them more time to prepare." The constipated look on Sam's face worsened.

"Dean, remember last time?" Dean just stared at him blankly, "...With the giant plastic candy cane?"

"Oh, no. That... that's not going to happen. I'm above that now. I mean, one of them is you're potential boyfriend-"

" _Oh my god, Dean!_ " Sam practically screeched, the giant girl, "For the last time, he's not my boyfriend! I've literally said, like, two words to him."

"Whatever, I'm just saying that the candy-cane incident was _one time_ ," Dean waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, "That kid had it coming, anyway." He muttered

"He was ten!" Sam objected

"It's in the past. And he was fine, so..." Dean shrugged.

Sam shook his head in that ' _I-can't-believe-your-lack-of-morals-and-I'm-dissapointed-in-you-for-it'_ way, but allowed the subject to drop.

"So, house lights first."

"Uh-huh, then if they retaliate we extend to the yard."

Sam heaved a sigh, "I guess we should get started then."

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

  
"Alright, you've got the veranda, you can reach everything there without a ladder, I'll take the back." Dean said, hoisting a loop of lights up around his arm and shoulder.

"'Kay, you be careful up there, it'll probably be slippery. I'm surprised it hasn't snowed yet."

Dean gave a non-committal grunt and marched to the opposite end of the house. He dumped the lights onto the grass and went to get the ladder. 

Over the past day, Dean had been racking his brains for what to get Sam for Christmas, and every time he managed to turn up nothing. Maybe he should just go over next door and try to convince Gabriel to gift himself to Sam for Christmas. Dean doubted it would take much convincing, but Gabriel would probably show up on Christmas morning naked and under the tree, considering the way he'd introduced himself. And _whoa,_ that was a mental image Dean definitely didn't need.

Dean cursed and panted as he tried to drag the ladder down from its shelf without bringing it down on his head. It certainly wasn't Dean who put the ladder in such a stupidly high spot, which left Sam as the only culprit. Bastard. With one last, vicious wrench, Dean hauled the ladder down, nearly falling on his ass. ' _Curse Sam and his stupid gigantor body'._ The journey back was almost equally as awful and getting the ladder had been. The ladder was big, bulky, and awkwardly weighted, so Dean kept trying to change the positions he carried it in to try and make things more comfortable. First, over his shoulder, which worked for about six seconds, until he forgot he had to keep it level and tipped it backwards; then under his arm, which he quickly abandoned; and he may have tried holding it up with both arms above his head, and _definitely_ did not slip and hit himself with it. In the end he dragged it along behind him, defeated.

Hanging lights would be way more enjoyable, Dean decided, if it were done in any other season. Trying to wind the string of outdoor lights around the tiny hooks lining the roof with numb fingers was excruciatingly slow, and it wasn't like Dean had very nimble fingers in the first place. Sure, the roof looked awesome when everything was up and lit, which was great, but the set up was a bitch to say the least. It took what felt like an hour of tedious winding and shuffling along the length of the roof just to hang the first set of lights around the bottom. Dean didn't even want to think about actually covering the rest of the visible roof, but it had to be done. Gabriel and Blue Eyes would quake in fear at the display of Christmas extravagance (and power, Dean supposed, in both the controlling and electrical senses of the word). Christmas, really, was Dean's domain, and he intended to remain firmly in place on his decorative throne.

He considered checking on how Sam was going out front, but Sam could handle lights easy...right? And honestly, climbing down and back up the ladder was getting old pretty quickly. Dean had been up and down and up and down and was determined to stay up on the roof for as long as possible now. He'd checked and rechecked the lights for any faults, ensuring that they could actually reach far enough to _have_ a supply of power, and was currently in the middle of lining up the chain of lights with the lower roof tiles. For some reason, the little bastard lights were refusing to cooperate, and it was really starting to irk him. In theory, it was simple enough: run the lights along the length of the roof, line it up with the edges of the horizontal tiles so they was straight, hook it and move on, but _Christ,_ it just wasn't happening, and Dean was ready to punch something.

"Come on, you stupid piece of shit!" He shook the lights violently, threatening to dislodge the set from the roof entirely. He dumped the remaining lights and crept over to the bottom corner of the roof, where he'd started securing the lights. He bowed down at the edge of the roof, slowly making his way across the edge as he examined the row of lights. Damn it, lights shouldn't be this difficult!

"Hello," a gravelly voice ripped Dean from his world of fairy lights and fixtures, causing him to jump in shock, and 

_Shit_  
 _Fuck_  
 _No!_

Dean was tipping forward, too far over the edge, and then, with an awful lurch of his stomach, he was falling. One moment he was staring down at the ground, then it was rushing up to meet him. Dean could only try to protect his head and neck with his arms before he hit the ground with a dull, pained thump, left dazed and reeling from the impact. He tried to suck in a breath and only managed a shallow, stuttering gasp, while his ribs protested the action. _Shit._

Distantly he could hear his name being called. " _Dean!_ Oh my god!" Panicked blue eyes suddenly filled his field of view. Really blue eyes, Dean noted distractedly. Wait, Blue Eyes? His neighbour? That was the voice he'd heard- _was_ hearing. " _Help! Sam, help me! Hurry!"_

_'Sam? How did Blue Eyes know Sam? They haven't met.'_ Dean realised, dazedly trying to remember a time where Sam and Blue Eyes interacted and failing to bring up any memories.

"Dean, look at me! Dean!" Blue Eyes was back in front of him, wild-eyed and panicked. Dean stared up at him, hitching tiny gasps of air. _Winded_ , he'd been winded when he fell. _Oh._ "Dean, no. Don't- keep your eyes open!" Dean belatedly realised Blue Eyes was cradling his head. He had a nice voice, deep and authoritative. "Sam! Gabriel! Call an ambulance!" Blue Eyes was back to looking at him, but darkness was creeping in from the corners of his vision, "Dean, please, stay- stay with me. Stay awake!"

"You," Dean choked out between gasps, black spots dancing in front of his eyes, "It's... you." _'How did Blue Eyes know his name?'_

" _Dean!"_ Sam's distant cry carried across the yard, Dean could hear his rapid footsteps and saw a blotch of plaid near Blue Eyes, and then Dean couldn't see at all as he sunk into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, drama! Injury! Yeah, alright, we'll get to cutesy stuff later sometime.
> 
> It's 11:30 PM and I'm a baby when it comes to staying up, so I'm sorry for any mistakes I'm missing, I'm just slow and tired. I hope you had a nice Christmas!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, I'm sorry it took 2 weeks to get 1000 words out, but I lost pieces of this chapter at least 5 times and I was so angry I couldn't bring myself to work on the same part again and again. Damn my laptop and its unexpected shut-downs.
> 
> I just hate this chapter and I hope the rest are going to be at least 20% more awesome than this.

Dean woke up to a blinding headache. _Holy shit,_ it was as if he'd happily smashed his head into a concrete wall for three hours straight. _What the fuck happened?_ A hangover? No, he didn't remember drinking, but he felt sick enough that it would make sense. _Literally, what the fuck._ He groggily blinked his eyes open, wincing at the bright light. After his eyes adjusted, he looked around the room.

Wherever Dean was, it wasn't home. The room he was in _definitely_ wasn't his - no clothes on the floor, no posters on the walls, and it smelled weird, not to mention that the bed he was lying on (wait, it was a bed, right?) was fucking awful. Dean groaned, this sucked ass.

"Dean?" that was Sam's voice, "Dean, oh my god! You're awake!" Sam suddenly loomed over him, grinning. How had he not noticed Sam before? "I was so worried! How do you feel?"

"Awesome," he croaked, trying to return Sam's smile, though he was certain he only managed a grimace, "Pretty sure I filled my head with concrete. 'S fuckin' bright. What time is it?" he asked, the words coming out slower than he intended. Man, he was really out of it.

"It's...just past five." Sam replied, squinting at his watch. "You were out for a few hours."

Dean hummed in acknowledgement, "What happened?" he eventually asked.

"Shit, um" Sam dropped into his chair beside the bed, "Okay, so, uh...you're in hospital-" _Oh, that explained the weird smell. Disinfectant,_ " - 'cause you fell off the roof when we were hanging up the lights."

"I fell?" Dean scrunched up his face as he tried to remember.

"Yeah, nothing broken, but you got one hell of a concussion and some pretty nasty bruises, from what I've been told." Sam's eyes flicked up to a spot around his forehead, before meeting Dean's eyes again, "You don't remember?"

Dean weakly shook his head, "Catch me up, yeah?" he asked, flinging an arm over his face to block

"Well, I wasn't there for all of it, but when I was doing the front lights, Castiel - he's Gabriel's brother, the one you were staring at - came around with this plate of Christmas cookies for us and introduced himself." Sam spoke rapidly, "Apparently Gabriel had already eaten, like, a dozen, and so Castiel gave them to us so he wouldn't make himself sick. We got talking and I, uh," Sam lowered his eyes, rubbing at the back of his neck, "I told him to go around to the back so you could meet him, cause you two had that, um, staring thing earlier. Everything was quiet, and then I heard him yelling for help, and when I arrived you were on the ground instead of the roof, Castiel was with you, and Gabriel was calling an ambulance."

Dean blinked slowly, trying to process the information overload. _Son of a bitch_ , Dean's brain jolted back online and suddenly the memory of just how he ended up in here violently resurfaced - the sickening feeling of plummeting to the ground, the panic of not being able to breathe, the fear in Castiel's ocean eyes, and the warmth of the hands cradling his head - leaving Dean gasping with the recollection.

"Dean?" Sam's face was lined with worry.

"'S fine, Sam. I just remembered what happened. _God,_ that was..." Dean trailed off, failing to find the right description.

"Crazy, huh?" Sam gave him a small smile, relaxing again, "I mean, if you had landed at the wrong angle you could've-" he cut himself off, taking a deep breath, "I'm just glad you're alright. Castiel was really worried as well, you should've seen him. He was in here earlier-"

" _Here?"_ Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he pointed down at the hospital bed. The idea that Blu- _Castiel_ had come to visit him while he was in hospital, _unconscious_ , was...interesting, and Dean's felt a small twinge in his stomach at the idea of Castiel fretting over him. Stupid, considering they'd barely met. Even stupider seeing as the only words spoken between them had landed Dean _here._

"Yeah, he came to visit while you were out, brought Gabriel with him, too." Sam replied, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"Please don't tell me you were flirting with him over my unconscious body," Dean groaned.

" _What?_ " Sam squawked, "Jesus- No! How could you even-" Sam huffed and crossed his arms, "It's not like that. I was worried about you, _they_ were worried about you, you freaking jerk."

Dean chuckled, Sam was so easily riled up, it was almost impossible to resist teasing him, especially now that he had such good bait with Gabriel. If Gabriel was here earlier, that meant that he and Sam had definitely been talking, and Dean was willing to bet that Gabriel would flirt with anything that moved, no matter the circumstances. Damn, he would would kill to have seen Sam stuttering and flustered from an up-close encounter with Gabriel.

That _could_ be arranged, Dean supposed.

"When are they letting me out of here?" 

"Well," Sam sighed, "it depends on the doctor, now that you're awake he'll probably come in to see you. If he clears you, we can probably leave today, or if he doesn't, you stay overnight."

"Nah, if they try and keep me here I'll just sneak out."

"Oh yeah?" Sam laughed, "Where would you go?"

"Out...the window." Dean waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the window on the opposite side of the room.

"Pfft, you'd be on the floor in under a minute. There's no way you could break out of _hospital,_ Dean."

"Watch me, bitch."

\- - - - - - - - - - -

In the end, Dean didn't need to break out of hospital, instead he was released with Sam given instructions on how to ensure he didn't, y'know, die in his sleep or anything. Nonetheless, he was still sure he could've made it out of that hospital. The dizziness was a hurdle, sure, but he would've snuck out of there, easy. But combining the dizziness and nausea with a moving car, _that_ was something else altogether, and it made for the worst trip Dean had ever experienced. He would have to literally shoot himself in the foot if he threw up in his baby.

As soon as the car slowed to a stop, Dean was quickly launching himself onto blessedly still ground and making his way to the front door on wobbly legs. _Oh yeah, he could feel the bruises now._

Sam would've laughed at the sight, if Dean didn't look so pitiful.

"Sam, goddamnit, get over here and unlock the door. It's freezing!" All Dean wanted was to go pass out on his bed and sleep for a week, but Sam seemed to take for-freaking-ever to get to the door and unlock it. Dean grumbled miserably as he hopped from one foot to the other, though he stopped after he overbalanced (for what felt like the tenth time today) and nearly toppled over.

"Thank god!" Dean croaked, stumbling through the door and making a beeline towards his room. He awkwardly tugged off his jacket before collapsing face-first onto the bed, mumbling "Screw consciousness," into the pillow.

"I'll wake you up in two hours!" Sam yelled from the kitchen.

_Fuck._


End file.
